we are madland
by lady madland
Summary: — trapped in a marble tower, amid that white nothingness, he found her. he wanted to complete his mission, she wished to be freed. and they both knew that, in the end, he would be the one to deliver the blow that would grant both of their wishes. -—darker characters ;


**disclaimer**: disclaimed.  
**dedication**: _Nivek01_ | for teaching me the path to being a good writer is long, but effort can get you there. _TenchiSaWaDa_ | for teaching me there's always room for improvement. _deadly-chronicles_ | for writing us wonderful pieces of art while struggling against her own demons. and mostly to **Kath**, because _damn_. this love i feel is going to torn my ribs apart one day, darling.  
**notes**: oh god, this story is _so_ fucked up. i'm gonna twist this around my little finger and make all of you plead to end the angst. not pretty sunshine, be warned.  
**notes2**: alternative universe, involving the fictitious place of Wonderland. the repetition of words or sentences is _entirely_ on purpose. narrative alternation without further notice and much, _much_ darker characters. beware.  
**notes3**: story revolves around Tsuna and the struggle with his emotions. it wasn't my intention to write romance, but _fuck this_. now i can only hope you guys won't kill me because, really, this is _beautiful_. don't give up on reading, it's romantically apocalyptic.  
**notes4**: numbers in portuguese, because i love my mother language the most. & fucking warm tea on cold weather.

**chapter title**: prophecy never —**lies**  
**summary**: trapped in a marble tower, amid that white nothingness, he found her. he wanted to complete his mission, she wished to be freed. and they both knew that, in the end, he would be the one to deliver the blow that would grant both of their wishes.

—

.

.

.

.

inspired by the despair and hurt  
ashes and dust  
you look lovely dressed in your blood, _darling_

.˙. ¤ .˙.

.˙.˙.

˙.˙

. we are **mad**—land .

.˙.

.˙.˙.

_The black heart king_  
_Has met his black heart queen__  
__Forgot everything he was_  
_For the taste of her skin_  
_His nights no longer lonely_  
_Once he let her in_  
_And by the orchestra of wolves_  
_You can hear him sing_  
_—Gallows_

˙.˙.˙

˙.˙

. | **um** | .

The room was large. Large, circular and white, so white the walls blended with the floor and it was impossible to distinguish what started where. In the middle of everything — and, at the same time, in the midst of that _nothing_ — stood an old, grand piano. White.

She played the instrument with mastery, even if she didn't admit being capable of the feat. She liked Rachmaninoff and Chopin — the _Great Brilliant Waltz_ in E flat major, if she remembered correctly. Sometimes it was Wagner, sometimes it was Rimsky and the _Flight of Bumblebee_, seldom she played _Für Elise_, rarely it's Beethoven.

He's complicated.

Sometimes she played lullabies: love songs of her own, written in her almost eternal exile and, sometimes, she sang.

The sky wept every time she did.

She kept playing that simple song, one she had heard many years ago, but could not recall the title anymore. She laughed quietly, soft and true, murmuring tones as languid fingers danced across the marble keys; eyes closed.

The door behind her opened and closed.

Melodic music stopped. She turned on her stool.

"Tsuna-san?"

The room was enveloped by the thick darkness the long curtains provided, and she squinted to see. She sought the features of the one who remained obscured by shadows, but she did not succeed.

Still, she knew. Even though she could not see him, or could only imagine those tormented eyes that fascinated her _so much_ — because they were not blank like the walls, like her piano, like _everything_ — she knew it. It was him.

"Princess." He stepped out of the shadows.

Her smile widened. He still called her by that name. Rising from her wooden stool, she ran, bathed in the moonbeams illuminating the marble floor. She threw herself at him, enveloping his neck as strong arms wrapped around her waist, bringing her closer.

"I missed you..." She whispered, keeping her head bowed.

He grunted.

"How was the meeting?" She murmured against his collarbone. He effortlessly lifted her off the floor, his other arm around her hip, near her buttocks to keep her comfortable. She shivered at their closeness, her soft breasts against his hard chest. "Did the Queen of Hearts ask for me? How was the March Hare? And the White Rabbit?" One of those big, manly hands buried itself in her silken hair, and she moved her head so that their lips collided with each other.

His lips took hard possession of hers. He slanted her head, moving his fingers along the jaw line and opening her mouth in order to have better access. She closed her eyes in pleasure as his tongue explored her warm mouth again and again and _once more_...

He broke the kiss and lowered her to the cold floor. She knew she had to sing to calm her nervous heartbeat, but before she could do it, he claimed her lips once again. She moaned and clung to his clothes, while he guided them until her back met the glossy wood of her piano.

"Tsuna-san..." She whispered against his moist lips.

"What?" He growled.

"Not here…"

"Why?" He kissed and sucked her jaw, giving her little love bites — but not really from _love_. "I want to do it here." He gripped the front of her dress and tugged it violently downwards.

The white skin of her neck was immediately assaulted by hungry kisses. "Tsuna-san..."

"You love this piano way too much."

She held him by the back of his head, brown locks sinking through her fingers. A moan escaped her throat when the brunet nibbled her neck, teeth piercing skin like a vampire and making her gasp and grab him tightly.

"This... Piano... Is my most precious possession." She gasped, slipping her hand inside of his black robes and feeling his heart's voice. The other one coiled on his rebel locks and _pulled_, his head now away from her flesh. He was panting, his lips damp and eyes resolute as she leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

"Just like you."

She felt his aura thicken — she could almost see his calm orbs host a tempest. Without any warning, he took her mouth and gave her a hard, deep kiss, sinking his tongue between her teeth. He tore her white dress apart and, with a single movement, the cloth revealed her naked breasts.

She walked away from the hot kisses, his eyes shifting color to the killing shade she loved _oh so much_ — because they were not blank like the walls, like her piano, like _everything_. She smiled gently, stroking his face with kindness.

"I don't want to break my prized possession."

His lashes lowered, eyes shining a dangerous orange glow.

_But you want to break me._

"Fine," he growled, his hands busy ripping the remains of her dress off her body. Pieces of white cloth fell on the floor, away from the bodies warming each other.

He leaned down to breathe on her ear.

"I'll fuck you in your bed."

…

…

. | **dois** | .

He cradled her afterwards.

Every after sex, he would cradle her in his arms. She didn't want to at first, but he insisted, and she gave in. She always cuddled back though, but he didn't mention the fact. He feared she might stop and pull away.

He took pleasure in pretend comfort.

She always fell asleep first, he made sure of it. It gave him the liberty to hold her closer without her telling him to stop and _let me go_. He was glad his stamina was greater than hers. She always tried to keep up, but then he would overpower her, _dominate_ her. Lead the act, make her come so hard that her body would tremble and break around him.

While caressing her features and watching her soundless sleep, he felt a familiar aura. His face didn't change, but he shifted and immediately pulled away, slipping off the bed. He watched her roll at the loss of his warm body and rest on her bare stomach, and then he waited. When he made sure she was still asleep, he dressed himself and left the room.

Within seconds, he reached the only balcony there, bathed in silvery light under a starless sky. The moon lit the dark night and he looked at it with suspicion — because the moon was nothing but the Cheshire Cat's smile, waning, _deceptive_.

"What are you doing here?" He asked coldly, not shivering in the frosty breeze licking his skin. "This place is off limits. You are trespassing."

"I am a noble." A voice scoffed. It was deep and firm.

Although his face remained neutral, his eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Being a noble does not give you the right to intrude."

"You are defensive, Hatter."

His jaw tightened, posture tensing slightly.

"_Don't._" The air became frostier. "Don't call me by that name." He hissed, concealed anguish not so concealed anymore.

There was a heartbeat of silence, and then, "Why not?" the voice sneered. "Does it _hurt_, Tsuna?"

"Why are you here?" He asked, voice once again within the reach of his control.

"To make you remember your fate."

Tsuna snorted. "Fate is for those too weak to determine their own destiny."

The newcomer stepped out of the curling shadows. Black eyes stared at him from under the brim of a white fedora.

"Then I'm here to remind you of your mission."

He grunted, turning his face to stare at the _nothing_ ahead of them. "I don't need to be reminded, Reborn. I know what I'm doing."

"Of course you do."

He didn't like the tone Reborn used, he never did. "If you're here to remind me of things I already know, then I suggest you leave." Tsuna said, trying to reign over the anger swirling in his stomach. "You're wasting my time—"

"I'm wasting your time or the time left for you to play house with her?"

"_White Rabbit_," he growled, his voice becoming dangerously low. "I'm warning you."

He rarely called Reborn by his title. "We don't have much time, Tsuna. Do it, _now_."

"Be quiet."

"Tsuna," Reborn's voice didn't lower or change. "It is your mission, your _duty_. This is for the sake of our world, of our future. We can't afford to lose this lifetime. You _are not_ allowed to make mistakes."

"I said, be quiet." His tone lowered. "She's sleeping."

But White Rabbits didn't obey to Hatters. White Rabbits didn't _fail_ their duties either.

"You are just like the Hatters before you."

"Do not compare me to those fools."

"You are one yourself."

Tsuna snorted again. "Just leave already."

Reborn narrowed his eyes, slightly peeved. "Hatter—" he said in a louder tone, but was silenced abruptly when a blade came to rest against his neck.

"I told you to _not call me by that name_."

Reborn almost laughed. "I am not afraid of you. You have the power to kill her and _only_ her. You cannot harm me or the rest."

The brunet didn't reply to the statement. He didn't lower his sword either.

"You are just like your predecessors, Tsuna." Reborn continued, a sarcastic smirk tainting his lips. "The Hatters before you… They all loved her, adored her. They gave up _everything_ for her. They all experienced the pleasure of taking her."

"You're wrong." His voice was colder, like the thick ice covering the mountains afar. "She was a virgin when I took her."

Reborn was surprised, but he didn't show it. "So, does it makes you feel special, Tsuna? Of all the 89 Hatters, she chose you to touch her. Only you."

"Do not patronize me." He deadpanned. "I am merely a prized possession, nothing more." And with that he lowered his sword, sheathing it.

Reborn remained silent.

"You're a stranger, an outsider." Tsuna said, turning his back on the man and heading out of the balcony. "This story revolves around _her_." And while disappearing into the thick darkness, he concluded. "And _only_ around her."

…

…

. | **três** | .

He met her when he was fourteen. He thought she was the most beautiful. But he also thought his mother was the most beautiful.

In the end, he decided they were the most beautiful in his world.

She was always smiling, even though no one paid attention to see.

When their eyes met, she seemed surprised.

They stared at each other and—

childhood, all over again. Childhood, with hot nights and days too short to play. Childhood, and the summer's breeze caressing his lashes, the sunlight bathing his skin. Childhood, and the pleasant aroma of lavender, the shining stardust of a nebula

—he only gazed away when his mother told him so. Her words were the Law after all, and he could only obey. He _had_ to obey.

He never looked at her after that.

…

…

. | **quatro** | .

He was crowned as Hatter when he turned twenty three.

The Cheshire Cat said so. The Cheshire Cat told him he was the 89th Hatter, and that he would free Wonderland from a great evil. If his mother's words were the Law, the Cheshire Cat's were the Truth.

His mother was so proud of him. You deserved the title, she said. And you will be our hero. The hero that will save us all.

She told him his mission.

Do not fail me, _Hatter._

…

…

. | **cinco** | .

You know, she never called him 'son' after that.

…

…

. | **seis** | .

She lived in a tower called Looking Glass. The marble walls glistened when the moonlight shone upon them, and the tower was a huge chess piece — the _White Queen_.

It was a tower fit for a princess, and she was alone, but not lonely. She had her piano and her bed and everything was fine.

She sang to break the silence. And the sky wept for her.

She was not lonely. She stopped being lonely a long time ago.

"I'm not lonely. I was loved for eighty eight times. I was loved by eighty eight men."

She was loved, but living for such a long time, she could not remember their names, their faces. She could not recall if she loved them back. But they loved her. They_all_ loved her...

"Ah, to be loved," she sang.

…

…

. | **sete** | .

He met her when he was twenty four.

He first saw her back, and she was playing the piano, she was playing Pachelbel. Her short hair had grown since last time, cascading now in soft waves of amethyst down to her waist. It reminded him of lavenders, growing on the most faraway place in the kingdom. Lavenders he had only seen _once_, because his mother hated and banished everything that was not red — red is the _only_ color of power, she said.

She stopped and turned to look at him.

He remembered her face—

"Hello." She said with a tender smile.

—she did not remember his.

It was better this way, he thought.

"You must be..."

"Yes." He stepped ahead, straightening up to his full height.

She had large eyes, and she was lovelier now, _so much_ _lovelier._

"I am the 89th Hatter."

…

…

. | **oito** | .

"The Cheshire Cat once predicted the 89th Hatter would be the last."

She resumed playing _Canon_ in D major.

"Do not disappoint the Queen of Hearts, Hatter."

"My name is not Hatter."

She stiffened, he could tell. In slow motion, she glanced at him over her shoulder, a lock of hair adorning her face.

"It's Sawada Tsunayoshi."

…

…

. | **nove** | .

"Your name is the first name I've ever learned." She told him two days later, dancing her fingers across the marble keys. Mozart flew high on the room. "Nobody told me theirs."

He remained silent.

"I have no one. In here, it's just me and my piano and my bed. But I love my piano more. I don't know its name, although I feel tempted to give it one."

The melody died slowly as she stopped playing the instrument.

"Oh, I know! I shall call my piano… Dinah!" And she resumed playing, this time with Debussy.

"Princess..."

The first time he called her that name, she was surprised. _Princess_. She felt special and happy and so, so, _so_ _unworthy_. The truth was she deserved none of that.

But at least she had a name. Hers had been lost to her memory since long ago, beneath layers of dust and sorrow. She hoped to remember it — remember _everything_ — when she died.

She just had to wait a little more.

"…What's your name?"

The music stopped abruptly.

…

…

. | **dez** | .

She kissed him on the fifth day.

"Oh, Tsuna-san. You are truly special." She whispered between kisses. "You are _different._"

He ran a hand over her amethyst hair. It was softer than he had imagined.

"Do you know why you are special?" She murmured, looking at his flamboyant eyes.

He didn't reply. He knew the answer, anyway.

She pulled back her arms from his shoulders and took his hands in hers.

"I was loved by eighty eight men before. One for every lifetime. Every Hatter… Every single one of them loved me. They loved me because they _had_ to." She was stroking his hands with her thumbs, eyes reading deep into his soul. "They loved me because they were _cursed_ to love me."

She suddenly let go of him, walking backwards until she reached the foot of her bed. She wore that same white dress, he noted, with spaghetti straps, tight bodice and loose thigh-length skirt. She looked like an innocent child, unaware of the malice in the world, if it wasn't for her eyes and smile

— her _oh so very_old eyes, telling stories of ancient times. Her eternal smile, tainted with the wisdom of an elder lady, speaking of things he hadn't seen…

"Because of their feelings for me, I continue to live. I continue to play my piano, I continue to lie on my bed, I continue to sing inside this tower…" She lifted a lock of hair between her fingers, closing her eyes for a second. A sigh escaped her thin lips, and as a shot in the dark, her voice sounded tired, _broken_.

"I continue to haunt Wonderland."

He did not speak. She did not mind.

"I've been alive for a _long_ time now, Tsuna-san. I don't know since when, or even how, but my existence in this place is a huge paradox. And soon, just because I'm alive..." She lifted her gaze to lock with his, eyes burning a fleeting flame.

"I will _destroy_ your world."

She dropped her hair and opened her arms, as if inviting him to a hug.

"The Queen of Hearts placed her hopes on you, Tsuna-san. In fact, _everyone_ placed their hopes on you. You are special. Because the 89th Hatter…" She smiled without a hint of sadness, only understanding. "_You_, Tsuna-san, is not going to fall in love with me."

His face didn't even change.

"Right?" She asked, sounding eager.

"Yes."

She began to walk closer to him.

"Say it."

"I don't love you."

She smiled serenely.

"And my mission is to kill you."

…

…

. | **onze** | .

"I know." She murmured against his lips, kissing him softly. "Promise me, Tsuna-san."

He held her tightly, and she enveloped his head in her embrace.

"Promise me."

Her voice was almost pleading.

"Promise me. Promise me you will fulfill your mission."

"Princess..."

"I'll let you touch me, but you have to _promise me_."

He ran his hands at her back, curling his fingers through her long hair. Their bodies clung to each other.

"You _will_ kill me."

He sealed his promise with a kiss.

…

…

. | **doze** | .

When he returned to her room, she was still asleep, lying on her stomach. He stopped for a second and just watched her — an ethereal figure resting under the holy glow of the moon. Approaching the bed, he ran a hand over her spine, feeling her shiver slightly. He waited for those eyes to open.

One second later, they did.

"Tsuna-san?"

He slid his hands under the silk covers, touching her naked breasts and slender hips. The fabric was cold against her skin, but she did not mind — because his hands were hot, _so very hot_.

She smiled, holding him by the head and combing his wild hair with her piano fingers.

"Again?"

The brunet looked deeply into her eyes. One of his hands stroked her hair back and away from her face.

"Yes." And he climbed on top of her.

…

…

. | **treze** | .

"Hatter."

He bowed his head and, "Queen of Hearts."

"I am waiting." She spoke in a soft tone, but her eyes were _hard_. "Wonderland is waiting. We need her head on a golden platter."

He kept his gaze fixed on the jasper stone floor. His face was neutral, free of any emotion.

"Are you going Mad, Hatter?"

He lifted his brown eyes. They sparkled orange. "No."

"Then, do it." The Queen stood up.

"_Off with her head_."

…

…

. | **quatorze** | .

She tried playing one of Beethoven's classics. It was difficult, but still, she _tried_. Later, she stopped and tried playing Schubert. It was easier.

She stopped once again, her hands resting on her lap as she stared at those _so very white_ walls.

"It's time, isn't it, Tsuna-san?" She said, smiling softly. She felt one of his hands rest over her shoulder, his palm warm against her bare neck.

"Your time's up." She added, eyes half-lidded. "I can still remember the Cheshire Cat's prediction."

"He said: the Hatter will fall in love with me after five days. The seventh day, he'd go Mad. On the fifteenth day, he'd make Wonderland bleed."

A pause occurred in the room, a tightness in the heart...

In the heart of _whom_ was the real mystery.

"Do you still remember your promise?"

"Do you know today's the fifteenth day?"

She only laughed.

"Ah, yes..." Sliding her fingers over the keys, she stood up, facing him. The stool stood between them. "Can we say goodbye?"

"Is that your last request?" He asked.

"Yes." She whispered.

"Alright," she smiled and started to undress. His eyes followed her movements, drinking in the sight of her nakedness, her porcelain skin and her bright, bright _but such tired eyes, darling_…

He ripped off his own shirt.

"Let's say goodbye."

…

…

. | **quinze** | .

He wanted to be gentle. For the first time, he _really_ wanted to be gentle, as he had always been before he was crowned Hatter. He wanted to prolong the contact, the pleasure, the touch…

He didn't want to stop.

"Again,"

They kept saying. They didn't stop. If they stopped, reality would catch up with them…

"Again,"

Once they stopped, it would shatter the dream.

"Again,"

Once they stopped, time would move.

Again.

Again.

And _again_.

…

…

. | **dezesseis** | .

"Say it."

"Just once."

"Even if it's a lie."

"_Say it._"

…

"I-I c-can't…" She sobbed. "I _c-can't_."

She can't stop crying.

…

…

. | **dezessete** | .

It was quiet.

He hovered over her, his fingers busy on entangling themselves in her amethyst hair. On his other hand there was only the sword, the blade licking her fair skin and pulsing vein.

"Tsuna."

His brown eyes left the marble floor — of the same whiteness as everything else — and collided with her purple gems. The tip of the sword increased in its pressure, threatening to rip her into flesh and bone.

"Don't…"

Crystal liquid drops fell on her serene face.

"…cry. Don't cry, Tsuna."

More tears fell, running salted paths down her pale cheeks, dying in her dry lips. She just smiled kindly, stroking his face.

"I…"

He did not understand. He sincerely did not understand. It was the _end_, and yet, she was happy.

She had waited far too long to die, anyway.

"I love y—"

…

…

. | **dezoito** | .

In one swipe, it was done.

…

…

. | **dezenove** | .

Loud, heavy breathing. Going heavier, faster.

Shadows danced across the bare walls.

And the blood. Blood spread, blood thickened, soaking the bed sheets and pillows. Soaking his chest and his thighs, staining his blade red, staining _him_ red.

Staining _death_.

Trembling fingers dug deeply into soft, amethyst strands of hair. Trembling arms clutched at the precious, bloody red head.

He began to rock back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

…

…

. | **vinte**| .

Looking Glass echoed with a broken scream.

…

…

. | **vinte e um** | .

Wonderland rejoiced.

…

…

. | **vinte e dois** | .

"I present you, the gift from the Hatter."

"White Rabbit…"

Reborn bowed low. "Yes, your Highness."

"Where is the Hatter? I demand it to be _him_ to present me his gift."

"He is…"

"There he is." He heard Mukuro — that _sly_ blue caterpillar — say. And indeed the Hatter appeared, walking towards the throne where the Queen sat, where the White Rabbit bowed.

His face was blank and his eyes half-lidded when he stopped beside Reborn, taking off the red cloth covering the golden platter. No one even winced as a head with amethyst hair appeared. Locks of long hair spilled around the decapitated head, her face holding a serene expression, radiating a deep calmness.

The Hatter tossed the cloth aside and grabbed the head by its hair. Everyone tensed as the brunet crossed the remaining distance between master and servant, between _mother_ and _child_. He stopped in front of the reigning sovereign, who stared at him carefully.

He lifted the head between them, at the Queen's eye level.

"The head, as you have wished."

"Excellent."

"Take it."

Her prudent eyes lifted from her prize to gaze at him.

"Put it on—"

"_Take it._"

The Playing Cards, the Guardians tensed.

"Hush." The Queen of Hearts waved a dainty hand. "Of course, Hatter." She stood up from her red throne and lifted her hand to take the gift.

…

…

. | **vinte e três** | .

The corner of his mouth lifted in a sadistic smirk.

The Queen's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to shout a warning but, a second later, her head had flown off her neck.

There were shouts.

"Your Highness!"

"Mama!"

"_Tsuna!_" Reborn bellowed. The Queen of Hearts fell on the floor, blood pooling around her severed neck.

Reborn shouted his name again. "What have you d— _Oh god_."

The Hatter turned to face his astonished audience, giving his back to the magnificent red throne — now empty, _forever empty_. He held his bloody sword and the hair of the head hanging at his side, blood running between his feet. His brown eyes were now a fierce orange, alight, and a hot flame shone on his head.

"It's…"

"_Mad Hatter?_"

…

…

. | **vinte e** **quatro** | .

Wonderland bled.

…

…

. | **vinte e cinco** | .

_"He said: the Hatter will fall in love with me after five days. The seventh day, he'd go Mad. On the fifteenth day, he'd make Wonderland bleed."_

…

…

. | **vinte e seis** | .

She told him once "I'd like to be the wind." He had asked her why. "Because I want to be _free_," she had smiled, "And someday, I want it to be _you_ to set me free."

"Tsuna-san…

Tsuna-san…

_Tsuna-san!_"

He jerked and the stained blade stopped only a hairbreadth away from Lambo's neck. He looked up, cocking his head to the side in a peculiar listening gesture.

"Tsuna-san…"

"Princess…" His voice sounded strangled, flat. He turned his head around, searching for someone who wasn't there for him anymore. "Prin… cess…"

But she _was_ there. Surrounded by an ethereal aura of light, she smiled that beautiful smile at him, bright and peaceful. She wore that same white dress — _white_, not red from blood, _her_ blood — and had both palms up, inviting him. "Tsuna-san…"

He reached out to her, wanting to feel the soft skin on his fingers, but she just smiled playfully and walked away, laughing and running out of the Heart Castle.

He followed her.

"Tsuna… nii…" Lambo whispered as he helplessly stood up. He looked around, only to always remember the bloody carcasses of his family and friends. Salty tears fell on his cheeks as he limped after his adoptive brother, avoiding torn corpses scattered across the floor like broken dolls. He walked _away_, away from an I-Pin who had protected him, away from the White Rabbit, from the March Hare, from _his_ _mama_…

"Nii… Tsuna-nii!" He called out, searching for his big brother until—

He found him.

His eyes widened.

…

…

. | **vinte e sete** | .

"Tsuna-san…"

"Princess..."

"It's _Nagi._"

"Na… Nagi."

"I'm glad. This is the first time you called me by name."

"Nagi."

"Do you want to fly with me, Tsuna-san?"

"I…"

"Come with me."

She smiled.

"_Tsunayoshi_."

…

…

. | **vinte e oito** | .

Lambo cried out as he stepped closer to the edge of the platform. Below him was the raging sea, crashing against the sharp rocks that had always haunted the base of the Heart Castle.

He was reaching out to the air — to the sky, grabbing onto the wind.

"Tsuna-nii… Stop it… Stop—"

He stepped onto _nothing_.

Lambo screamed.

…

…

. | **vinte e nove** | .

He was _free_.

…

…

. | **trinta** | .

"…TSUNA-NII!"

.˙.

.˙.˙.

_Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop.__  
__—Lewis Carroll_

˙.˙.˙

˙.˙

.

.

.

**notes5**: Alice in Wonderland belongs to Lewis Carroll. seriously, that guy was _nuts_.  
**notes6**: STARing— Nana as _Queen of Hearts_ | Reborn as _White Rabbit_ | Lambo & I-Pin as adopted siblings | Mukuro as _Absolem_. the excuse is that his hair is blue. the caterpillar is also fucking blue.  
**notes7**: in the language of flowers, lavender denotes purity, devotion and _distrust_.  
**notes8**: do_not_ favorite without leaving a review. i feel sad and guilty and like a _bitch_ asking this, but constructive criticism helps the author. thank you._  
_**notes9**: new story coming up, twisted and intense and _dark_. therefore, i'm in need of a _good_ beta-reader. all those interested can contact me via pm. i swear i don't bite, darlings —_much_


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